Not My Forte
by Heartbroken Confession
Summary: Where in Natsume attempts to write a fanfiction, and Mikan can't help but laugh at the attempt. "I glanced around, no one but some dorky nerd that spends his friday afternoons writing fanfictions-- oh wait, that's me." NxM One-shot


I think my lack of a love life recently is making me write all this fluff.

Two things I don't own: A love life, or Gakuen Alice.

Note: This one-shot might make more sense if you read _Overused_, because it kinda goes with it. But you'll still get it if you don't.

**--Not My Forte--**

**-By: Heartbroken Confession-**

I scowled and glared at the Macbook Pro on my lap. The textedit application was open and that annoying blinking thing-- what is that called anyway-- was well, blinking.

I brushed back my raven bangs that were getting way too long but stupid Polka and her annoying prodding, decided that I wasn't allowed to cut my bangs. Who is she, my mother? Before I know it, I'll look like a caveman with my abnormally long hair. Then again, why am I listening to her anyway? Maybe I should shave myself bald. Just to spite her.

My teeth gritted as I thought of _that gir__l_, that girl being Polka Dots, Sakura Mikan, MandarinLovey11, yada yada. It was all her fault that I'm sitting here in the back of our school's media center, completely blowing off my soccer practice (a captain skipping one or two practices to write some lame-o story isn't that bad... right?). Stupid Polka. I'm sitting here writing a fanfiction for some random website where kids that have way too much imagination and way too much time post their dreams in some form of a story because of her. They're all replacing the main characters with themselves in their mind anyway. You see, I am highly competitive. Then again, all Hyuuga's are. Don't believe me? Aoi gave some 40 year old woman a black eye trying to get the last pair of size 6 tall chocolate Uggs last Christmas.

Okay, back on topic. What happened was that crazy Polka was writing another one of those crazy fanfictions that she's obsessed with. I made another one of those snide comments, as she calls them, and then she dared to make a remark about_ my_ writing abilities. I mean, not to sound big-headed, but come on. I'm Hyuuga Natsume, of course I can write some stupid story. So, remaining calm as always, I rose an eyebrow and "remarked" right back at her. Then the stupid, ugly girl pushed it even further. That's when I decided, I was gonna write one story that would kick her story's ugly butt.

So here I am, hiding from Persona, our slave driver of a varsity soccer coach, in the media center typing away at a story for fanfiction. Yes, this might sound dumb, but I'm not gonna let Polka out-do me.

My eyes flared with determination as I turned my attention back to my computer.

**The Stupid Girl Who Stood In The Middle Of The Street. **

I frowned at the title, would it work? No, no, it was much too revealing. Based on the research I had conducted earlier, most of the writers used a very secretive title that normally had nothing to do at all with the story. Is that the way I should go? I nodded and backspaced the old title, typing in a new one.

**ItZaSeCrEt!!! **

I nodded at the new title, that should be good. It was secretive, which must've been inviting or else those writers would have stopped writing a long time ago. I even went as far as to incorporate some of the crappy typing a lot of author's used. Yes, I nodded again, this must be the perfect title.

Now, time for a summary. Polka dots always walk around like a dead zombie for days, groaning in frustration over her summaries. I mocked her about it once and nearly lost an arm. After that, I learned to never mock her when she's brooding over her story summaries. She always said that the summary was one of the most important aspects to a story. "The summary must be interesting and alluring, Natsume! It has to catch their attention right away and MAKE them read it!" she would yell. I thought about it for a moment. I had seen a lot of methods used by authors when I was conducting my research. And there was one technique that really made the writers say they were going to make you read the story. I read my current summary,

_"Some stupid-ass dumb girl stands in the middle of a street. She must be really dumb. Like Polka Dots. Hn." _

I puffed my cheeks and exhaled with them, they created a weird farting noise. I glanced around, no one but some dorky nerd that spends his friday afternoons writing fanfictions-- oh wait, that's me. I mean, that sick nasty ultra cool and awesome soccer captain that spends his friday afternoons writing his almighty stories of... almightiness. Okay. Onto writing a new summary.

_"A girl stands in the middle of the street, tears streaking down her cheeks as she---- READ TO FIND OUT BITCHES! BWAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA."_

There. That's perfect.

I read over the rest of the story and thought of the other thing Polka always worried about. Reviews. I need some way to get people to review.... I scrolled down to the author's note I felt obliged to add.

_"Okay. Review." _

Hmm... not too bad. But there was something else I saw earlier that I want to try.

_"Give me at least 5 reviews or else I'll stop writing this story! And if I stop writing, the evil ninja monkeys of guilt will come attack you!" _

I inwardly laughed at my own cleverness. Who wouldn't feel threatened to review by the evil ninja monkeys of guilt? They wouldn't be able to report me for a bunch of monkeys either. Yes. I am truly brilliant. A much better writer than Polka I am.

"Natsume, what are you doing?" I turned around. Polka dots was standing to my left, her field hockey uniform slightly dirtied with soil and her headband that read "Captain" messily pulling back her auburn bangs.

"Hn," I replied, handing her my laptop proudly. She received it with a skeptical glance, putting down her water bottle.

--x--x--x--x--x--x--x--x--x--x--x--x--

**ItZaSeCrEt!!!**

**By: IKickPolkasWritingButt**

A girl with freaky blue colored hair stood in the rain-- honestly, how stupid is she? Why would you stand out there in the rain unless you have some awesome immune system.... well. Maybe she does have one, I mean come on, she has natural FLUORESCENT BLUE hair.

So, yeah, back on topic.

The freaky haired girl stood in the middle of a highway in Tokyo (only city I could think of where you would see fluorescent blue haired people....). Water was running down her cheeks-- yes, the cheeks on her FACE, you dirty minded reader.

She held her arms up, she looked like a fluorescent bird. I wonder if those really do exist...

A fancy-schmancy kick-butt red sports car (I'm too lazy to think of one, use your imagination!) roared in front of her. Her boyfriend was inside.

"BamBam, move!" Yes, the fluorescent bird-- I mean girl, was named BamBam.

"NOOOO!! BowChikaChikaWahWah! YOU AREN'T LEAVING." She wailed like a cow. MOOOOOO!! BAMBAM THE COW.

"Okay! I won't leave!"

And so BowChikaChikaWahWah and BamBam lived happily ever after.

**A/N: Give me at least 5 reviews or else I'll stop writing this story! And if I stop writing, the evil ninja monkeys of guilt will come attack you!**

--x--x--x--x--x--x--x--x--x--x--x--x--

I stared as Mikan's eyes started to fill with tears and she began shaking. I inwardly smirked, she was so touched by my story she was crying and she was so taken aback by my wonderful writing skills that she was speechless.

"Natsume..." she started. "AHAHAHA!!" She broke out into hysterics. She was literally rolling on the ground laughing.

Well, that's not quite the reaction I was looking for.

"Shut up," I growled, snatching my computer back. I waited for her to stop laughing and stop she did, after nearly 5 minutes.

"Is it that bad?" I asked her. She hesitated before nodding. I sighed and stared at the story. I had lost to Polka, and now Persona was gonna kick a soccer ball into my face tomorrow for missing practice.

I ruffled my hair and sighed again, stealing a glance at Mikan. I exhaled and pressed the delete button.

"Well, there it goes. It's official. I admit defeat." She laughed, but this time it was more like a melodic laughter than her fit of hysterics.

"I'm not much of a writer, eh?" I thought out loud, scratching my chin.

"No, but you do fine on your current career path," Her eyes twinkled with amusement.

"Oh, and what would that be?"

"Being my dutifully fantastic boyfriend," she grinned before leaning in and giving me a kiss on the cheek.

Hm, maybe one day the word "boyfriend" might just turn into a little something more eternal... Husband. Yes, that sounds just about right.

And even though writing is not my forte, Mikan's freakish obsessiveness makes up for it.

**Because she's my other half. **

--x--x--x--x--x--x--x--x--x--x--x--x--The End--x--x--x--x--x--x--x--x--x--x--x--x--

Fluffy. You like? :) If you do...

Review or else the evil ninja monkeys of guilt will attack you ;)

Just kidding!


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